But it's still on the list . . .

09/29/2014

Over the weekend, my son, who is 6, discovered the joy of leftover pizza.

This was not a smooth process, as could be expected.

He claimed to want hot pizza. In the past, he's been fine with cold pizza, but really wanted something hot. So, I told him to microwave his pizza.

Now, this isn't completely out of line. He's microwaved things in the past. Chicken nuggets. Corn dogs. And he usually asks me how long to microwave things.

This time, he did not, and I let him make his own decision. Probably not the best idea, but, hey, eventually, at the age of 6, your parents have to stop looking out for you and let you learn by doing.

He chose 9 minutes.

After a couple minutes, smoke rising from the microwave . . .

He shut it off.

He did not panic, he did not worry, he shut it off. Then he told me (with his fingers in his ears, ready for the shouting). I rather calmly walked over to the microwave, and took out a smoking pizza briquette that had fused to the plastic plate beneath it, and said, also calmly, "What did we learn?"

To which he said, "Don't microwave pizza for 9 minutes."

After that, I had a little laugh, and told him that the best plan for anything he needs to microwave is to never use more than two numbers.

Chicken nuggets? 45. Corn dog? 55. Pizza? 35. That's seconds and it's plenty for things he might want to make on his own.

Of course, the house still smells like burnt pizza, but at least we're all still alive. And the pizza wasn't anything I'd worry about wasting a slice of anyway.

05/13/2014

The kids really want JC and I to get back together. I'm increasingly thinking that's impossible.

I had a chat with her on Sunday (Mother's Day - hah). I told her that I don't know how to move forward with anything because, at this pont, I have a massive "fuck you" card that I can play, pretty much forever. No matter what she does, or says, or tries to tell me, if I don't like it, I can just drop, "You don't get to tell me what to do, because you ran."

Oh, she tried to tell me, again, how she was trying to do the right thing, and that her illness convinced her it was the right thing, and all I can hear now is, "It's not my fault what happened."

And then she told me that there's no way she can be with me again unless I can give her a fresh start. If I can forgive and forget.

Sorry, I can't. I might be able to forgive. In fact, that part is pretty easy, since I do think her illness drove her to make a terrible decision (if only she'd stop telling me that it seemed like the right one at the time).

But I won't be able to forget. And no matter how well I do, no matter how hard I try, I know that someday, there will be just the right argument, and I will drop that bomb.

It's like she's a different person, and she expects me to be a different person now, too. And she expects this to happen in the wake of a terribly traumatic event. Which, by the way, was caused by her.

She told me she no longer hopes to get back together with me. She sort of wants it, but she doesn't hope for it. And she doesn't miss me. She misses the kids, but not me.

The kids still like her. Does she have any idea, even the smallest inkling, that the reason for that is because I am a good person? Because I didn't spend the last 8 months filling their ears with poison about their mother? It would have been terribly easy to ensure that our kids never wanted to see her again. In the wake of the incident, I could have simply said that she left because she doesn't love them. Over and over and over. Instead, I pursued therapy for all of us, and tried to make sure that they understood that what she did was because she was sick, not because she didn't love us, and not because of anything the kids did.

I could have initiated divorce proceedings the moment she left. I could have simply let her run forever, and not tried to find her. I could have done a million things a different way. But, no, I decided to be hopeful. To not simply burn everything down.

As for me, I'm tired of being the one who makes the sacrifices. I'm tired of being the hopeful one. For 3 years, I let hope drive my decisions, I let hope that she could recover and that we could become a family again, drive me to almost kill myself to keep the house running, to keep the children insulated against the worst of her illness, to keep everything going, by myself.

Now, she's had her escape pod, and, from some distant planet, she's saying, "I can't come back unless you can change. I don't have hope any more. I've given all I can, and that's all I can give."

03/12/2014

I am going to ask you something, and if you don't want to answer, then don't. But if you do, I'd like you to think about it before you do...

Do you still *feel* love towards me, or is it a memory of loving me? And do you, as the person you are now, love the person I am now (taking as a truth that the person I seem to be now, in recovery, is truly the person I am now and will continue to be)?

Me:

I don't have an answer for that right now.

JC:

Ok

I figured you probably didn't, and that's ok. But I need to say that while I very much want to be a whole family again and I know you have a tentative timeline for various milestones, I cannot move back in until and unless the answer to those questions is yes.

I know I'm the one that did all this damage and I understand you need time. But I won't spend my life chasing after scraps of love.

Me:

Well, I'm not the only one making decisions here.

JC:

I guess that's what I'm saying. Until now, other than fighting for the language change, I've been pretty much going along with everything you say and happy to take whatever you will give me. But I can't keep going that way, I'm making some decisions about what I need too, that I am not willing to accept our relationship in any form I can get it.

My head tells me I do still want to be with you. But when I feel nothing from you, my heart starts to forget why

And this isn't a threat, or ultimatum, or a demand, or anything. You are at where you are at. But this is where I am right now. It's hard for me to tell you this, it shards for me to admit to myself, but it also hurts not to

Me:

I know, I know. You left me, so it's up to me to repair everything, or else you'll just go find an easier way to get what you want. Got it.

JC:

Ummm. I have been trying like crazy to reach out to you. To repair things. You said you aren't ready to work on it

But I can't just bang my head against a wall forever hoping that one day it will fall down. You don't know if you love me.

Should I wait forever?

Me:

Yeah, but I guess me waiting and trying to help you for three years, and holding the family together while you ran off, and sacrificing nearly everything I have earns me, what, 3 months to get over it? That's great. Thanks.

JC:

During that entire time, I always told you that I loved you. I always tried (though I know, unsuccessfully) to make decisions that I believed were best for you and the kids

I always tried to show you love.

I understand that my actions often didn't seem loving. But in my messed up thinking, there was always love.

Also, I never said I was giving up now. I said, that 1) I cannot wait forever and 2) I won't move back in unless you do love me

And I said that I did not expect you to be able to answer right away

Me:

The reality that I'm living in is that, for all my hard work, you ran. Whether it was away from us, or towards what you thought would be better, I guess either way the result is the same: I got to pick up the pieces. Again. So, whether or not you thought you were being loving just doesn't hold a lot of water. It was a slap in the face of everything I tried to do. So, forgive me if I'm being cautious about putting myself back in a position where I rely on you, or trust you, or allow myself to feel anything that can be turned against me.

JC:

I understand all of that. I do. AND the reality I am living in is also that: love needs love to flourish - when it is one-sided, it wanes. When it is not given in abundance by both parties, it weakens. Yes, I understand that my illness took away my ability to give love to you in a recognizable way, and so it is very much on me that our love was weakened. But moving the imbalance the other way will not correct things, it will only weaken it more. Is that fair to you? No. But it is reality. Should you get to have three years of holding me at arms length? Sure, if that's what you need, if you need some sense of justice in order to feel safe with me again, then yes, that would be fair. But will EITHER of us have any love for each other after three years of you keeping your heart distant? I don't know.

Me:

I don't need justice, or fairness, or vengeance, or however you're framing my attitude right now. I need patience. Whenever you feel you've exhausted your patience, that's up to you. I've made future plans with you, and, like all my other words, including "if you go inpatient again I'm leaving" and "I'm trying to make this amicable and reversible", I intend to keep them. If the timeline doesn't suit you, I'm sorry. If you don't think what we've planned will move us in the right direction, I'm sorry. I don't have a magic wand that makes hurt, and distrust, and sadness, and resentment go away. I'm doing the best that I can with an exceptionally shitty hand.

JC:

I know you don't accept it, but that is also what I am and have been trying to do - these past three years, my life, and now.

Me:

I think the bulk of evidence is that I've been very supportive of your efforts, regardless of the harm it may have done to me.

JC:

Yes. Yes you have. And yes, it cost you. And I am grateful for your support and extremely sorry for the pain. But all that I have been trying to communicate from the start of this tonight is that 1) it will not be healthy for me to move back in at the end if the year if you do not love me - and I will also add, if you have not forgiven me. And 2) share that right now, I'm feeling a lot of pain and concern over the lack of love and the thought that you may never love me again.

Me:

Ok. I agree with 1 and understand 2.

I can't give you any more assurances than I already have.

JC:

I'm not looking for assurances. I mean, sure I would love to get some but I already knew that it's not something you can do. I'm not asking for anything. I just need you to know where my thoughts are, how I'm feeling.

Me:

That's fine. Perhaps it would be better to open with that instead of questioning me next time.

JC:

I see that now. I asked the questions that I did because I wasn't sure of the answer, and if the answer was that you are certain that you do love me, then it would have changed the conversation direction a little. But I do see that I should have started with explaining that I wasn't asking you to do anything different or give me any assurances.

01/24/2014

JC had a major relapse. It was bad enough that she left. As in left. Me, the kids, everything, just . . . left. For three days, I spent every waking moment trying to find her, even when there was nothing I could productively do.

It shredded me.

The kids, too, but this is about me, because I get to make something about me.

It shredded me so badly, I took two months off of work on disability. I am back on antidepressants, which I hate, and do not agree with my body.

I have returned to work.

I have also taken control of my situation and the protection of my kids by initiating divorce proceedings. It is set to be final on the 24th of February. 22 days after our 12th anniversary. I'm sure there is something poetic about that, but I'm not sure what. Possibly that we got married on 2/2/02, so 22 days past is nice and round.

I am happy that I am back in control. It makes me sad that I am happy.

But right now, that's not what I'm really feeling. What I'm really feeling is anger.

Why? Because JC is getting a volunteer position. And that doesn't provide enough hours, so she is also getting a part time job.

Should that anger me? Probably not, right? It's a step in the right direction, it's responsibility.

So, why the anger?

Simple.

Where was this desire for responsibility and doing things when she came home here? Why couldn't she channel this into keeping house? I know keeping house isn't sexy. So the fuck what? I have to do it all the time now on top of my full time job. It's a pain in the ass. But it's part of being a responsible person, a responsible parent.

I am so fucking pissed.

I have been burying my feelings about this for a long time. Tonight, I'm too tired after 2.5 hours of dancing and a couple shots of scotch whiskey to bury feelings.

I'm pissed.

Is it fair? Fuck no. But then, neither was RUNNING AWAY FROM YOUR RESPONSIBILITIES.

The carnage in this home is immense. I've had to do everything to keep it together, including keeping my anger at bay, and not blaming JC for things to my kids' faces.

But this is fucking ridiculous.

"Oh, be so proud of me for getting a job and doing volunteer work!" You want a fucking cookie? That's what you're SUPPOSED to do! Only, now, apparently, it's possible, where before it was completely beyond the pale. Hell, getting her off the couch and off Facebook and working on the home was a challenge. Now? "I'm getting a part time job, aren't you happy?" Must be fucking nice, being able to just make those decisions without a care. Me? I'm terrified that my job is in jeopardy, that I'm never going to be able to get back up to snuff, that the nanny I hired is going to kidnap my children when I'm traveling and sell them to sex traffickers (not likely, of course, but thanks to the national news and Hollywood, anyone with an accent is apparently suspicious). I don't get to make grand choices like, should I get a temp job or not?

I get to hoe this fucking row, whether I like it or not, because I'm a goddamn parent, and when you take on that responsibility, life suddenly becomes more than just about you.

*sigh*

I know JC is upset that I'm cutting her out of parenting and decision making. I know she'll be upset when she finds out I took our eldest shopping for training bras (!!!). I know she'll be upset when she finds out that our middle child's cries of "homesick" are really code for, "I have complex emotions about my mother and I don't know how to express them safely to her, because I'm afraid she'll run away again because of me." I know she's upset that the entire conscious memory that our youngest has is, "Mommy is always sick and comes and goes, and I don't really care enough to be upset, because it's just normal Mommy."

So, of course, I'm probably the bad guy because I'm angry that this is the best that JC can do. Fuck it. I'm already the bad guy for divorcing a mentally ill spouse, so what the fuck do I care?

10/10/2013

Ugh. It was all just little things when I left. Baggage can't be overweight at curb check unless you're flying first class. Couldn't find space in the economy lot, ended up in the garage. Checked bag at the counter, but overweight payment took forever, because it's outside the normal checkin process. Many people at PreCheck, including one dunderhead who decided to argue with the TSA. US Airways scheduled 6 flights to take off within 10 minutes of one another, and then put them at adjoining gates, so, gate delay. Took off to the west, which means a long taxi, and sixteen aircraft in front of us in line.

Asinine woman Amy behind me calling on phone while we are literally spinning up for take off. "Conceited bitch," her boyfriend called her apparently (as she told the same story to at least six people over the phone after we pushed back. Well, I guess he's right, if she thinks the rules don't apply her. Turn off your dam phone.

Anyway, I'm out here doing my job. Why am I so frustrated? None of those issues really prevented my arrival. In fact, we were a little early.

Probably because I'm so unsure of my relationship with JC at the moment. I think about where we are at, and I still have no idea where we are heading. I've said many times that I'm trying to make it through the holidays first, then we will see. But see what?

Crystal thinks that this whole "I'll leave if you want me to go" thing that JC is espousing is just her way of confirming that she's unloveable. Maybe so. I do know that I can't do some half measure trial separation.

Ugh.

Anyway.

The work here in Florida is done. My team member is retiring at the end of the year. Yup, he's just getting through the holidays, too.

It was nice to hear that she missed me while I was away.

I missed her, too. But not the drama. Not the stress. Not the insanity. And I guess I don't really feel missed either.

09/30/2013

She understands why I get angry about her issues. But it's not helpful to her. I don't know how to react any other way, now. Why? Because there's nothing I can really do except ride it out.

I did ask her what she wants. I asked her what she was willing to do to get it. I don't remember the answer.

I offered to let her move up to Orem, UT, with the cat, and stay in an apartment so she can be close to her preferred therapist, and not have to deal with the stresses of life in a house with three kids. She doesn't want to do that. In fact, she said that she'd leave if that's what I wanted, but she'd want to see the kids and would fight me if she had to.

What I'm stuck on now is a question that I have to answer: am I willing to accept her as she is, with all her inconsistencies?

So, I'm examining those thoughts.

What do I give up if I do accept her? Do I have to stop being frustrated with it, because I said I'd accept it? Do I have to not be angry?

What happens if I don't accept it? Does she leave? Am I willing to accept that consequence? Am I too afraid of abandonment to let that happen? Have I been abandoned already, but I'm too blind to see it? Am I letting that fear cloud my judgement?

Am I being stupid? Or am I being brave?

Is what I am doing honorable? Or is what I am doing dumb?

Am I wasting my time? Or am I being patient?

Is what I am doing all of those things at once?

What do I want?

What am I prepared to accept, if I can't get what I want?

What, in fact, is my payoff? Is that payoff enough?

I'm thinking about my alternatives. I feel like I need more information. Do I have to make a decision without all the data? Does that increase my chances of making a decision that is wrong? What, in fact, does being wrong mean, at this point?

What is my goal here?

JC says I have an abundance of loyalty. Maybe that loyalty is making me hang on to something I should let go. She talked about a trial separation. I don't think I can do that. That seems like such a half assed way to manage things. If I need a time out, I can take a time out without completely upheaving the family with maintaining two homes. I'll be in Florida for two days. That's a nice time out. Do I need longer? Nope. I've done longer.

88 days of longer.

So, I guess I know what a trial separation looks like. I mean, that's what it's for, right? Space? Time to sort ourselves out? Admittedly, I wasn't spending 88 days sorting myself out, but, then, I don't feel like I'm exactly the problem here. I'm also not saying I'm the victim here, either, but I'm not the problem.

JC mentioned something like that. She goes to these other people for support because she feels like she can give something back to them. What can she help me with, when she feels like she's the problem that I'm dealing with in the first place?

I don't know how to respond to that.

Finally, I laid out why it upsets me that she needed some drama queen to tell her to take her meds and go to bed. It's because I take my stupid cholesterol pills every day, and walk for 30 minutes most mornings, because I want to be here, present, healthy, for my family. For JC. For the kids. Last Friday, I skipped my walk. I had skipped it on Wednesday and Thursday because I wasn't feeling well. I skipped it on Friday for the flimsiest of reasons. And that nagged at me. Because I was making a decision to stay in bed for an extra 30 minutes instead of going and walking so I can be healthy and stay off my blood pressure meds and be present for my family. And even on the worst days, that's all I need.

And yet, last week, she looked around her, and some voices in her head told her to skip her meds. And somehow, making the healthy choice for her family wasn't enough. She needed a push. Not from me. Not by looking at our sleeping children (which I sometimes do when I'm feeling weak). From some person that she spent a terrible time of her life with, who shared that experience.

I'm mad about that because I'm not enough of a reason.

I'm mad about that because the kids aren't enough of a reason.

I'm mad about that because I'm excluded from that experience.

I'm mad about that because, if the end result was that she managed to take the meds, why should it make any difference to me how she got there?

09/28/2013

My wife is still wrapped up in her eating disorder, but she doesn't seem to know it.

It's taken a new form, but the effects on me and probably on the kids are the same: she cares more about the eating disorder than she does about her family.

How do I know? Well, it's sort of a daunting chain of events.

Today, she didn't keep her word to be back from fabric shopping in time for me to go to my martial arts class without dragging two kids with me.

No big deal, right? Well, actually, right. When she was gone, I took all three with me, and got them Happy Meals to eat while I had my lesson. My instructor runs classes at his home, and doesn't mind my kids being there. So, was it really an imposition? No.

But it was an example of her not keeping her word.

Let's go to the next step in the chain: the laundry. When she was gone, I got it done on Friday. All of it. The kids put their clothes away for the week when they went to bed. Washed, folded, sorted. And every week, either sheets or towels. Every week. She's let that drift. Now, it happens in Saturday, or Sunday. Why? I don't have a good reason from her. It's not like she's working.

Anyway, she didn't get it done on Friday, so she had to do it today, Saturday. If she had stepped up and gotten it done, well, here's the thing: she could have gone fabric shopping earlier and respected my time.

And why is it drifting? When I even bother to ask (not often, these days, why should I invite an excuse I don't believe or care to hear?), the answer is she was busy with other things or too tired.

Sorry. There were plenty of days when she was gone that I was tired. Or busy. Let me think. Yes, it was approximately every day.

But here's what I saw yesterday: a lot of messaging on Facebook with some girl she met in the facility. A girl who lied all the time, and fought treatment. Now, she's struggling with her recovery.

That girl is apparently more important than her own family.

Is doing the laundry helping your family? Try not doing it for a month.

My wife is doing the bare minimum so she can say that she did something to help out around the house, and then going off and trying to convince a lying drama queen to eat a cracker. Over Facebook.

Sorry. Fuck that. I'm fucking angry. I did everything. Everything to make it possible for her to go inpatient again. I have up my sports car for her. Again. I've paid and paid and paid.

Money.

Time.

Effort.

Tears.

Pain.

And I'm still paying. For what? So she can Facebook with some lost cause?

Fix •this• family first, goddammit.

•This•.

•Family•.

Unless, of course, she doesn't want to. Which is what her actions are telling me.

Yes, all because she didn't respect my time today, and caused me no inconvenience at all.

08/03/2013

Still awake. Waiting for sleep to roll in like the tide in San Diego last week. The one that almost crushed me as I tried to body surf it out.

This is my life now. Waiting. Waiting to feel like the worst is over. Waiting for the next step. Waiting waiting waiting.

And it's really all I can do. Wait.

And while I wait, resentment. Where is the payoff? Why did I do this? Why am I still doing this? Is there any way for me to not have to do this? What are the chances that all of this is for nothing? That I should have cut my losses years ago? I've been doing this since I was 38. Since my son was 3, before he started school. I'm tired of doing it. I can't seem to get my fists up to fight any more. Can't seem to see a future, and when I do, I can't trust it, it could slip away at any moment, and even if I do my best, make the right choices, continue to sacrifice, it might not make any difference.

And all I can do is wait. Wait for trust to return. Wait for the good days to stack up until the bad days are far in the past and woefully outnumbered.

Wait.

Wait.

For what? I don't even know. But I'm waiting. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for normalcy to return. Waiting for the next thing. Good, bad, indifferent. The next thing. Impatient to get there. And when I get there, I'm impatient for the next thing. Bed time, morning, lunch, work end, kids to bed, the next thing, the next thing, the next thing.

But it's rarely what I want. The reminder for the kids' meds has become oppressive. I don't want to shop on Sunday. Don't want to dance on Friday. Don't want to cook dinner. Do laundry. Watch kids. Be responsible.

88 days. 88 days where that wasn't even a choice. Trapped. Happy 40th. This is your life. Trapped.